


In which Electromagnetica lab goes about how you'd expect

by Overlord_Bethany



Category: Girl Genius (Webcomic)
Genre: Ficlet, Gen, Mad Science, Paris hijinks, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-20
Updated: 2017-08-20
Packaged: 2018-12-17 14:31:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11853543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Overlord_Bethany/pseuds/Overlord_Bethany
Summary: What could possibly go wrong?





	In which Electromagnetica lab goes about how you'd expect

Probably half of Paris knew how much Tarvek hated getting paired with Gil for Electromagnetica lab, so Colette and Wooster made a habit of turning up to enjoy the show. Gil benefited enormously from a classroom policy that it never mattered what blew up or caught on fire, so long as the students involved handed in detailed notes explaining what had happened and why. Tarvek complained that the only benefit he ever saw was to his future stomach ulcers. 

While Tarvek double checked each of the connections on their apparatus, Gil fiddled with the power converters. Neither of them particularly noticed how they had finished their project twice as fast as the rest of the class. Neither of them would have cared. 

Gil called out a warning just a second before throwing the main switch. Tarvek sprang backward, his hands in the air, an oath on his lips. In the back of the room, Colette and Wooster laughed, but their laughter died as the apparatus hummed to life. With a sharp crackle, a column of lightning scorched the ceiling, arced, and fried three other experiments before the machine choked, wheezed, and fell silent. 

Gil flung himself upon his notes and began furiously scrawling in three languages. Tarvek lost his temper. 

“I told you to leave the output settings at fifteen percent!”

“I didn’t touch the output!” Gil objected, still writing. Every third or fourth word, he scribbled a correction. 

“Then what did you do?” Tarvek demanded. 

“Why does it have to be  _my_  fault?”

The other students, now convinced the machine would not explode, had drawn closer, hoping for a fistfight. Tarvek threw his hands in the air in exasperation. “Because it’s always your fault! You have the self control of a Jägerhorde on uppers!”

Gil objected, but Wooster nodded his agreement. 

“Tarvek,” Colette muttered. “The usual stakes.”

Wooster shook his head. “Gil, obviously.” Gil knew exactly what had gone wrong. 

“It can’t always be my fault!” Gil was arguing. “That’s not rational.”

Tarvek’s temper flared. “Not rational?” he repeated. “Like me cleaning in the reanimation labs? Where, yesterday, there were eyeballs on the ceiling! Eyeballs. On the ceiling. Do you even know how badly something had to go wrong to make that mess?”

Gil whistled. “I heard Professor Wollstonecraft was angry yesterday.”

“Angry!” Tarvek laughed, and the sharp edge, the higher pitch of it caused all the rest of the class to take instinctive steps backward. “You have no idea! She made me use the experimental stepladder!”

Gil stared at him in disbelief. “But… it wasn’t your—”

“Fault? Hah! Aren’t you getting how it doesn’t even matter any more?” Tarvek began gathering up his notes. He drew a deep breath, composure returning as he exhaled slowly. “Just… just forget it.”

Wooster stared after Tarvek as he walked out of the classroom, but Colette rushed to Gil’s side. 

“Are you going to tell him what went wrong?”

Gil blinked as though mystified at her presence. “Doesn’t he know already?”

Colette dragged one hand down her face in exasperation.


End file.
